


Making Time

by Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me



Series: Copious Cockles [16]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Jensen, Coitus Interruptus, Conventions, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Jared you cock-blocking son of a bitch!, M/M, Oral Sex, POV Jensen, Sexual Humor, That one where Jensen doesn't get what he wants, Top Misha Collins, jaxcon 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 18:23:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9505175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me/pseuds/Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me
Summary: There always seems to be something getting in his way ... something stopping him from being alone with Misha. Well, damnit ... this time, no matter what, come hell or high water, Jensen is getting himself nice and fucked!





	

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a fic written for the beautiful, Teila, aka: [TFW-Destiel-Cockles-Misha](http://tfw-destiel-cockles-misha.tumblr.com) who was so sweet and made me a beautiful calendar for Christmas this year. Love you, darling!
> 
> And this fic was inspired by two different JaxCon events, which you can find both [here (x)](http://salesassociatesteve.tumblr.com/post/156471834507/stineys-awkward-ackles-autograph-session-or-how) and [here (x)](http://purgatorywithdean.tumblr.com/post/156280354947/my-cockles-op-jaxcon-2017-feel-free-to-edituse)

“So, I was thinking— after this we could get outta here and maybe—”

“Where are we goin’?”

Jensen cringes the second he hears Jared’s voice, because he had finally gotten Misha alone for the first time in forever, and he was really hoping to set up a time to be alone again.

Misha looks around Jensen’s shoulder and smiles as he watches Jared come up to meet them. “Not sure yet, Jensen was just about to suggest something.”

“Oh, well—I saw a cool, little bar while we were driving in. How about we all head there after the autographs tonight?” Jared offers, now grinning ear to ear.

“That sounds good to me. Is that what _you_ had in mind?” Misha asks, finally turning his gaze back to Jensen— who is desperately trying not to pout.

“ _Uh_ , yeah … sounds … fine.”

“Great! We’ll all meet up in the green room and head over tonight.”

“Alright, we’re about to let them in” Chris calls out just as he walks back into the room, adjusting a different lens onto his oversized camera. “You guys ready?”

“Let the chaos ensue!” Misha laughs, nudging Jensen with his elbow and giving him a wink.

Jensen forces a smile but he’s still aggravated— and as one of the volunteers opens up the far door to start letting the fans in, he gets even more so. After this, it will be another hour of photos, then the meet and greets, then the private meeting with the VIP guests, then they’ll be chartered to the back of the building to sign various posters and merchandise, and then it will be time for the final panel, before the insanity of autographs begin … and _nowhere_ in the midst of any of that, will he have another chance to spend some alone time with Misha. It’s fuckin’ ridiculous.

“Smile, man! You look like someone just stole your cookie” Jared chirps, tossing his arm around Jensen’s shoulder while using his other hand to wave at the growing crowd of squealing fans that are now filling the room.

So Jensen does smile, knowing he needs to get over it already. After all, conventions are _always_ like this. He never has time for anything really— no time for phone calls or sleep, or that extra cup of coffee that he so desperately needs right now. It should be no surprise to him that he doesn’t have the opportunity to get Misha alone; but then again, he _never_ seems to have that time anymore.

When they’re on set, someone else always seems to be around— whether it’s Jared or some PA, or just another crew member trying to do their job. Any time he’s gotten to see Misha in the last few months, it always been from across a crowded room. He just wants twenty minutes … a small amount of quiet time, so it’s just his friend and him.

No interruptions.

_Is that too much to ask?_

The next thing Jensen knows, Jared is trying to pick him up and Misha is on his other side, trying to keep him from falling over, all while a couple of girls stand off to their right, unsure of whether to cry or to laugh.

Chris snaps the picture.

_Apparently it is._

***

“Thank you so much. You’re awesome and I love you … th—thank you!”

“You’re sweet. Thanks” Jensen smiles, nodding towards the young woman who is doing her best to fight back some tears. He quickly signs the picture she had handed him, before he slides it back over to her.

“Thank you!” she squeaks again, finally losing her battle as she steps away from the table.

He watches as her friends swarm her, holding her up the moment she starts to collapse—a mess of sobs and “ _oh my god’s_ ”.

“Hi! Like, _seriously_ —Dean is my favorite character ever!” another girl yelps, pulling his attention back to the line of people in front of him.

“Thanks so much” he offers, smiling softly at her, before writing on the giant, model Impala that had been wheeled across the table.

Once signed, the girl takes her toy car and practically skips away, more than delighted at the two-second interaction.

And that’s how long most of these interactions are. Some are a bit longer, some are shorter because the fan is too nervous to even talk … but either way, Jensen tends to get through his line pretty quickly, because he likes to keep things short. It’s neater that way—more calm. If you talk more, the fans breakdown more, and then he’s here for another hour … and that’s when he starts getting grumpy, and that’s not ideal for anyone. He wants the fans to have a good time, and— _he knows himself_. If he tries to make it personal for _everyone_ , he’ll just end up being cold and impersonal, and the fans don’t deserve that. So, he keeps it quick. That’s the only fair way to go about it.

“I love that picture” another fan says as the volunteer to his left slides the photo under his nose.

Jensen looks down at it a second and then grins, remembering the moment from only a few hours before—how Misha had just man handled him to the girl’s side and then yanked his other leg up and around their bodies. The guy was always doing weird shit like that. He never seemed to miss a beat. Whenever a fan was vague and just like “Do something random” or “Be spontaneous”, Misha always seems to have a plan.

Whenever they ask just _Jensen_ to do something like that, he usually defaults to looking stiff and grumpy, mainly because—what the hell else is he supposed to do? But _Misha_ always has a handle on these things … it’s why the fans love him so much.

It’s why _everyone_ loves him.

“The pose was Misha’s idea” Jensen says suddenly, picking up the picture and showing the volunteer that’s sitting next to him. “He just grabbed me. That crazy idiot … Mish always has a plan.” Suddenly, a second photo from the same op is slid over to him as well. “Oh god! This one is even crazier! Misha is practically picking that girl up! Typical … he always manhandles everyone. Especially me!” Jensen blushes a second later, realizing what he’d said, so he quickly signs both photos and sends the girl on her way.

“I mean … Misha’s just that type, ya know? Always willing to go nuts for a fan.”

The volunteer smiles and nods, but she doesn’t say anything—probably because she’s been convinced she’s not allowed to. He knows about the speech the volunteers get before the conventions start: _Don’t talk to the talent. Don’t interact with the talent. Don’t touch the talent._ He gets it, but that speech usually makes most of them turn into mute-robots when he’s around … they can still answer his questions, for Christ’s sakes! They won’t get flogged.  “Yeah, Misha’s crazy” he ends, figuring this one sided conversation should stop right about now. He shakes his hea  a little as he pulls over the next item to sign—a T-shirt from their LOVE campaign. Misha’s brainchild, of course.

_Misha is so good._

He misses Misha

 _Fuck …_ he needs to keep this line going.

He usually finishes about ten minutes ahead of Jared; so if he speeds things up a bit, maybe he can buy himself some more time before they leave for the bar. Rob and Rich are probably already on a plane … and everyone else left earlier this morning. It should just be Misha and a few of the convention people in the green room. If he can just get through this line, he can maybe squeeze in some Misha-time before Jared is done.

Okay … no more small talk about Misha or _anything else_. Just smile, say “thank you” and sign.

_Smile …_

“Thank you.”

_Sign._

It seems to be working. Within another fifteen minutes, he only has a few people left; while a peek through the curtain to the other side of the auditorium shows that Jared still has a long while before he’s finished signing.

 

Finally, the last fan is standing in front of him—bouncing on her heels as he signs her sweatshirt. “Thank you” he says, a bit more enthusiastically than he had any time before.

“No, _thank you!_ ” she squeals back, pulling the sweatshirt away and to her chest—clutching it close, like it’s made of pure gold now.

He smiles again as he watches her walk away, waiting until she is out of sight before he leaps from his chair and rushes to the back of the stage. “Tell Jared I’ll be waiting for him” he mutters to Liz, the equipment manager, who is already winding up cords and cleaning up the mess that had formed over the last few days.

She nods but barely acknowledges him, too focused on the task at hand.

He likes her … she doesn’t jabber on and on about nonsensical stuff like so many other people tend to do. She’ll talk when the work is done, when she has time, but until then … _silence_.

 _A kindred spirit,_ Jensen thinks.

With another quick and relieved smile, he busts out the back door and down the service hallway towards the green room. Some hotel staff is back there, cleaning up dishes and putting away supplies, but other than that, the hall is empty. He eventually comes to the end of the walkway to find Clif standing there, munching on a granola bar—probably waiting for him to show up.

“Jay said you guys wanted to go to a bar after this?” Clif asks around a mouthful of crumbs.

“Yeah—but he’s busy. Is Mish in the green room yet?”

Clif looks him over for a moment before giving him a knowing smile. “Yep. In there with Jim, I think.”

Jensen nods and then moves past the other man, knowing that if he lingers, Clif will start waggling his eyebrows at him, following it up with some bad jokes about Jensen getting _touched by an angel_ or some bullshit. The man has never moved past the mid-90’s.

“I’ll come and get you all when Jared’s done!” Clif calls after him, but Jensen just waves his hand blindly behind himself to acknowledge the comment. He’s too focused on getting to the green room to look back or say anything. He can’t waste a single second.

 

After what seems like an eternity, the door to the green room is finally in sight, and Jensen is through it like tape at the end of a marathon—panting and smiling victoriously once he spots those blue eyes staring back at him.

“Wow, you finished early. I wasn’t expecting you back here for another twenty minutes.”

“Yeah—rushed it” Jensen gasps, finally clearing his throat and relaxing his nerves. _I made it._

Misha smiles at him but then turns his head to look off to his left, and it is just then that Jensen realizes, the guy’s handler is sitting on the other end of the couch. “Jim was just telling me about how his family went to Palm Springs for Christmas.”

Jim smiles and nods, but doesn’t add on to that comment.

Jensen almost groans. “Oh … yeah? Sounds fun. Warm. No … no snow.” He winces on his fumbled words, knowing that he could probably try a little harder to act normal.

Jim nods again but still doesn’t talk—he’s never really been “chatty” and Jensen usually loves that about him, but right now, he wishes the guy would just finish his damn story so Jensen can politely ask him for a minute alone with Misha.

“Well … I should _uh_ …” Jim mumbles after another excruciating ten seconds of silence, watching Jensen carefully all the while, as if he’s reading his mind.

“Oh, of course. You got better things to do than entertain _me_. Thanks for keeping me company though” Misha says, standing up just as Jim does.

“Yep” Jim mumbles, reaching out to shake Misha’s hand.

But Misha only laughs and slaps it away, pulling the man in for a hug instead.

Jim has been Misha’s handler for _years_ —yet, he always acts like he’s the new guy in the room.

Once the two separate, the older man awkwardly shuffles away, and Jensen gives him a pat on the back before he walks out the door.

Yet, as soon as the latch clicks closed, the entire strained mood of the room, changes—turning darker and desperate. Immediately, Jensen is stomping forward like a soldier on the march, grabbing at the hem of Misha’s pants and pulling him in as hard as he can. “Finally!” he growls, kissing the other man in a frenzied heat.

“ _Woah_! Jen—Jensen! Slow down!” Misha laughs, between the moments he can actually escape Jensen’s attacking tongue.

“Nope. Jared’s coming” Jensen argues, quickly pushing Misha backwards onto the couch.

“So?” Those blue eyes seem genuinely confused now, and Jensen can hardly believe that he’s actually going to have to explain this.

“Seriously?” he asks, already feeling his jeans getting tight—because the sight of his friend looking up at him with freshly kissed lips is just too damn much.

“What has gotten into you?” Misha queries again, and it’s so completely innocent and infuriating that Jensen has to roll his eyes.

“ _You!_ Or, the _lack_ of you!” he finally squawks, tossing his hands up in the air. “You realize— _this_ is the first time we’ve been really _alone_ in months, right? Forgive me for wanting to make the most out of it.”

Misha cocks his head to the side and looks Jensen up and down, but finally—a devilish, little smile pulls at the edge of his cheek. “Well—why didn’t you say so?” he purrs, reaching out and yanking Jensen down on top of him.

“I didn’t think I had to” Jensen grumbles, but soon—all his frustrations melt away, because Misha is kissing up the side of his neck, and it’s causing a wave of goosebumps to roll over his entire body. “ _Fuck_ ” he moans, pushing his hand up underneath his friend’s shirt.

Misha flinches and pulls away suddenly, “ _Yeesh!_ Your hands are cold!”

Jensen laughs. “Sorry … why don’t you help me warm ‘em up?”

The other man grins before gently pushing Jensen back—just enough so that he can undo his own pants and shimmy them down his waist, taking his briefs along with them.

Jensen licks his lips, quickly slipping his hands over and around the curvy mounds of Misha’s ass. It’s warm and soft and firm, and something he’s very much missed feeling. “ _Mm_ … better” he hums, slipping down onto his knees so that his tongue can reach the tip of Misha’s cock.

“I—I think so too” Misha stutters—head already lulling back as Jensen swallows him. “Fuck … it has been too long, hasn’t it?”

Jensen mumbles agreement around his friend’s thick shaft; bobbing and sucking faster and harder as Misha’s hands come up to run through his hair.

“Although—the separation certainly seems to have its benefits” he laughs again, looking down to catch Jensen’s eye.

So he quickly pops off and wipes off his mouth. “For _you,_ maybe. What about _me?_ ”

Misha frowns before wriggling eagerly in his seat. “What? You don’t want to just sit here and suck me off for the next fifteen minutes? Because, you really _could_ if you wanted to.”

Jensen just rolls his eyes even harder now. “You’re greedy. Has anyone ever told you that?”

“West … when I won’t share my food with him.”

Jensen grimaces as he shakes his head. “Can we please not talk about the kids while your dick is out?”

Misha tosses his head back as he chuckles. “Yeah, yeah … you’re right. That’s not exactly a _turn-on_ , now is it?”

“No … it sure ain’t.”

They both then quiet a moment, hitting that awkward pause that they usually hit somewhere in the middle of their sexy-times—because they’re both too big of smart-asses to ever keep a mood going.

“So …” Misha finally jumps in, letting his eyes darken as they lose their humor, “I suppose it’s _your_ turn now, _hm?_ ”

Jensen bites his lip, feeling those goosebumps wash over him once more. “How ‘bout—it be _our_ turn?”

Misha grins, excitedly. “I like the way you think.”

In no time at all, the other man has Jensen on his back—ready and willing to have the quickest round of fucking the two have ever experienced, but then there’s a knock on the door.

“Excuse me?” a woman’s voice tumbles in just as the knob begins to turn.

Misha and Jensen both go wide-eyed and stupid for a moment.

“Just—just a second!” Misha shrieks, leaping off of Jensen who is still tented and sprawled out on the carpet. He stumbles backwards while trying to pull up his own pants, eventually losing all his footing and falling back onto the couch.

Jensen could laugh if he wasn’t so damn pissed.

“Sorry to bother you but—”

Both men gawk at the door—now cracked open, showcasing Connie’s head and surprised face, poking on inside.

“Oh … I … _oh_ …” the volunteer director whispers, taking one last scan of the situation before yelping and pulling back out of the room. “I’m sorry! I—I just …”

“It’s … it’s fine …” Misha shouts, shrugging helplessly at Jensen who is still a mess on the floor. “What did you need, Connie?”

It’s quiet for a few seconds before the woman finally answers him. “Oh—well … we just … we have a fan who … she just missed Jensen’s autographs by a couple minutes, and I … I was hoping he could—”

Jensen drops his head back onto the carpet with a soft groan. “Yeah— _sure_. Hold on” he hollers, swiftly rolling to his stomach so he can push himself to his feet. He then scurries towards the still cracked door and peeks through the opening, finding Connie on the other side, face—looking just as red as her pantsuit.

“I’m really sorry” she whispers again, glancing back and forth between him and her own feet.

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it … I did … _uh_ , I did kinda rush the line.” Jensen smiles, feeling pretty guilty now for speeding things along so much. He should have known there’d be some stragglers in the auditorium. _There always are_. “What did the fan want signed?”

Connie looks confused a moment, as if she completely forgot why she was standing here—but considering what she had just walked in on, who can blame her? “Oh— _right_.” And with that, she hands Jensen a Dean Funko doll and a sharpie.

Jensen smiles and takes the box, wriggling it through the barely open door before scrawling a quick and sloppy signature across the front. He then hands it all back to the woman outside, catching a glimpse of Jim and Clif, standing off at the far end of the hall near the bathrooms—both vibrating and shaking, obviously trying to hold back some laughs. He narrows his eyes at them and flares his nostrils, but that only seems to make the two crack up even more.

Connie then turns and gives them her own look—which is far more effective than Jensen’s was, because both Jim and Clif clam right up. 

“Sorry again” she whispers, turning back to Jensen.

“It’s fine— _I’m sorry_. It was my bad.”

Connie shrugs a little and forces a placating smile, but then moves away—wasting no time in walking down the hall and far, far from this awkward situation.

Jensen groans and thuds his head against the ridge of the wood, finally stepping back and slamming the door closed, taking an extra second to turn the bolt lock—effectively keeping all other interruptions at bay.

“Wow … we just have all the luck, don’t we?” Misha laughs, sighing immediately afterwards and rubbing his hands over his face.

But Jensen doesn’t want to dwell on it—in fact, he doesn’t want to waste one more, single second; because Jared will be done any minute now, _and by God_ —if Jensen isn’t going to make the most of it. “Shut up and get those pants off!” he grunts, immediately rushing forward while working his own pants down his legs.

“So demanding!” Misha chuckles, but he follows the instructions—quickly unzipping and yanking his pants from his hips just as Jensen climbs on top of him.

 

Soon, both men are a mess of moans and tangled limbs—kissing and biting, grasping and tugging; hot skin upon hot skin … a short preamble to the main event.

“I—I don’t have any lube” Misha grunts, using his eager fingers to reach around Jensen’s body and spread his ass apart.

“Spit” Jensen huffs, knowing that it’s not ideal and it’ll probably hurt like hell tomorrow, but he’s aching too hard for it now.

“That’s so unsanitary” Misha snubs; yet … he’s too needy and desperate to really argue—rutting his hard cock up into the sweaty crook of Jensen’s thigh.

And that only makes Jensen ache all the more. “Just do it!”

“Fine, fine …” Misha whispers, voice pitching upward with excitement. The man then scoots himself down, cupping his palm to his mouth as he spits. He scrunches up his nose at it, but wastes no time working his arm down so that he can slick up his cock. “You ready?” he asks, looking crazed and starving now that they’re finally at this point.

“Fuck— _yes!_ Come on, Mish!” Jensen whines, teetering back so his ass brushes his friend’s slippery tip.

“ _Mm_ , God … I love it when you beg for it.”

Jensen can only roll his eyes. “Fuck you … and don’t say ‘other way around’. If you do, I swear, I’m gettin’ up and leaving you bare-assed on this couch!”

“Like you could” Misha rumbles coolly.

And Jensen groans—knowing that the man is right. He wouldn’t leave … not when he’s finally getting what he wants. “Will ya just do it already?”

Misha opens his mouth as if he’s going to say something else, but instead, he just thrusts upward—ramming the head of his cock directly into Jensen’s trembling body.

“Shit!” Jensen yelps, tensing and gritting his teeth with the sting … he knows he needs to relax if he wants the man to slide in any further, but he’s shaking too hard to make himself.

“You gotta loosen up for me, Jen” Misha wheezes, already twitching with the feeling of the other man squeezing firmly around him.

“Tryin’ to” Jensen grunts, shutting his eyes tight and taking some deep breaths. After a few more seconds, he feels his muscles begin to ease; and after a few more, he feels Misha begin to ease his way in.

“Damn—you feel so good.”

Jensen smiles with the praise, keeping his eyes closed as he sinks into the moment. He soon hears Misha begin to pant, and then he feels him pull his knees up, planting his feet against the cushions of the couch so that he can move faster—in and out, holding Jensen’s securely above him.

“Do you want me to take care of you now?” Misha gasps, snapping his hips in erratic beats, beating all of Jensen’s tension away.

With that, Jensen finally opens his eyes—feeling himself peak with the sight of his friend, flushed and animalistic beneath him. He nods.

Misha can only smile—soon sliding one hand off of Jensen’s waist so that he can wrap it around his cock instead. After just a moment more, the spastic rhythm evens out, and the two are moving in unison—gripping and slipping across one another, with all the delicious friction they could hope for.

“Fuck … I’m close!” Misha grunts, rolling his head back and shutting his eyes tight.

“Me too” Jensen breathes, reveling in the buildup, and the itching need to explode.

“You guys ready to go?”

A loud knock on the door immediately follows the sound of the doorknob, jiggling.

Both men freeze atop the couch—gawking at each other in a panic.

Jared’s voice calls out again. “Why is the door locked?” His voice then fades a moment. “They’re in there, right?”

Clif’s voice then grits through the grey painted wood and metal. “Yep. Sure are … they’re … _occupied_.”

“What?” Jared mumbles, obviously confused before Jensen and Misha hear him suck in a panicked breath. “Oh … oh, _seriously?_ In the green room?” A silent, but painful moment passes before they hear their friend’s complaints once more. “You guys! People _sleep_ in there! That’s just gross! Jesus Christ … will y’all at least hurry up and finish? They’re gonna have to burn the whole hotel down after this … I swear to God. Y’all got issues. Like freakin’ horny ass teenagers. We had plans, ya know? You couldn’t have waited until _after_ the bar? I swear … we were supposed to all relax over a beer … not over _hand jobs_ while I stand out in the hallway. Is this why you finished so early, Jensen? Seriously, man … I just thought you—”

“Jesus Christ! _Stop talking!_ ” Jensen shrieks, already feeling Misha go soft inside him.

“I … I don’t think this is going to work” Misha whispers, sounding slightly pained. And if his balls are anything like Jensen’s right now, they’re pretty blue.

“No … no, he shut up. We can finish!” Jensen pleads, trying to rock back and forth, but all it does is squish Misha’s flaccid cock down into his waist.

Misha frowns and winces with the motion. “I can try to help _you_ finish, but I sure as hell won’t be able to! Not now … not with him out there with his ear pressed against the door.”

“His ear isn’t—”

“I can totally hear you two” Jared laughs from the other side of the deadbolt.

“Fuck.” There’s no way Jensen can finish now either. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“ _Ew_ … Jensen, did you just … _ew!_ ” Jared gags, slapping his hand on the door frame, so loud it makes the other two men jump.

“Jared, I swear to God!”

“ _Gross!_ Don’t call out _my_ name … you’ll hurt Misha’s feelings!”

Jensen instantly flings himself upright, shaking his fist at the closed door. “Fuck you!”

“Now you’re _really_ hurting my feelings!” Misha laughs, obviously not as upset as Jensen is right now—not if he can joke about it.

“Fuck you both!”

“At the same time? I don’t think you could handle that, Jackles … too much man for you.”

Clif’s hysterical laughter starts ringing out behind Jared’s voice, and any hint of an erection that Jensen once had, is now long, long gone. He wonders if he’ll ever be able to get one again.

“I hate every single one of you.”

Misha is laughing even harder now, but he settles when Jensen climbs off of him and begins getting dressed again. He stands up as well and catches the pouting man just as he picks up his shirt from off the floor. “Babe” he whispers, kissing Jensen on the nose a second later and forcing him to look into his eyes. “We’ll get another chance, don’t worry.”

“When? A month from now? _A year?_ It seems like we’re _never_ alone anymore.”

With a sigh, Misha pulls Jensen into his arms and hugs him close. “We’ll make the time, okay? I promise.”

Jensen nods, but it doesn’t really do anything to improve his mood. He’s still angry, and pent up, and his poor, poor nuts feel like they’re locked in a vice.

Making time seems pretty damn impossible, and even after they get dressed again and make their way to the bar, Jensen sits in the back of the car—silent and brooding. Wishing he could just go to bed instead.

 

Little did he know, that time would be made just an hour later—after Jared already worked up a good buzz, and Rob made a surprise appearance, distracting Jared from the very important task of teasing Jensen about the whole green room debacle.  Instead, the guy busied himself with filling Rob in on the green room debacle, with added commentary from Clif, of course. And Jensen would have been really pissed about it all, but he didn’t get the chance—because Misha was too busy pulling him outside and shoving him into the backseat of the rented town car … making sure that _this time_ , there would be no more interruptions.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> For more Cockles and Destiel smut, fluff and feels, check out the rest of my [Ao3](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me/stats).
> 
> Find me on Tumblr at [Castiel-Left-His-Mark-On-Me](http://castiel-left-his-mark-on-me.tumblr.com)


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